


Dead and Gone

by Renaly



Category: Helix
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Assault, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of past forced prostitution, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaly/pseuds/Renaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hijacking is a very effective tool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead and Gone

He looks worse this time. Skin paler and waxier, eyes sunken even deeper, bruises forming on his cheeks. 

Anana wonders if it will ever stop being a blow to the gut to see him like this.

Sergio’s eyes are not as dull, however. As he calls for a ceasefire, they’re full of pain. And fear. 

Is he afraid for her, like he is claiming? Or of what they will do to him if he fails to deliver his message?

All of District 13 is seeing this interview. All of the districts are watching. So when Victor intersperses the broadcast with their own footage, everyone in the country sees that, too.

They see Anana surrounded by the dust and bones and ruins of her home. They hear her singing, singing that damned song that they will turn into a battle cry.

If everyone in the districts can see, can the Capitol? Can Sergio?

Anana gets her answer a moment later when the screen switches back to Sergio’s face. His expression tears something inside of her. She’s surprised there’s anything left to break.

“Anana,” he gasps out. “Please.” Something seems to solidify in his mind, and he sets his jaw. “They’re coming. They’re coming for you! You’ll be dead by morning!” 

Hands clamp down on him before he’s finished speaking, and the screen goes gray with static. 

Alan drags Anana away as she screams her voice hoarse.

—————

Like everything else in this district, the bunker is gray, but Anana might prefer that to the red of the air raid sirens.

But the worst parts are the thunderous booms emanating from the upper levels, the ones that shake the foundations of the bunker. It’s been going on for an hour now, and there are several explosions each minute. Toluk and Miksa flinch every time, and it’s all Anana can do not to follow suit. 

The boys are doing that thing where they stare at each other with unreadable expressions. Mom used to joke that they had twin telepathy. Anana used to be a little jealous, but now she’s glad that no one can ever get inside her head.

Finally, _finally_ , the bombs slow down and then stop. When she’s sure that the attacks have stopped, and that Toluk and Miksa will be all right, she stands and makes her way through the rows of bunk beds. 

Julia is staring at the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her dark hair hangs limp down her back.

Anana sits down next to her on the bed with no hesitation. She’s just about to say something when Jules opens her mouth.

“I keep trying to figure out which is worse,” Jules says. “Seeing him, knowing he’s alive but also knowing he’s being tortured. Or not knowing anything at all.”

Anana does not answer. 

“I wish she was dead,” Jules whispers. “I wish they were all dead, and us with them.”

“I made the deal for Sarah, too,” Anana tells her.

Jules looks up, something resembling hope flickering in her eyes.

—————

On one side of the screen are the readings for each of the soldiers on the mission. Kyle’s face fills the other side as he stands in the rubble outside of District 13. 

“President Sutton used to sell me,” he is saying. “Sell my body.” His face is neutral, as if he is merely telling a story.

Anana wonders at a rebellion made up of so many broken things.

—————

Sarah looks even tinier, which Anana didn’t know was possible. Julia sobs her name as she bolts to her side, and Sarah babbles incoherently in Jules’s arms.

The soldiers are saying it was too easy, and warning bells are going off in Anana’s head, but then Alan is pointing her towards another room in the infirmary, and she glimpses a head of dark hair through the window, and. Well. There’s not really room for anything else in her head after that. 

Anana pushes the door open. 

He is sitting on a table with his back to her. She makes her way around to see him, and the emptiness in his eyes does not change.

She does not stop to think about what this means. “Sergio—”

He lunges for her, his hands going to her throat, and Anana has no time to react before he smashes her back against a glass cabinet. It does not knock her out, but how she wishes it did.

Sergio slams her to the ground. His fingers press on her trachea, and spots appear in front of her eyes, obscuring her view of his face, which is contorted in fury.

Anana hears people screaming in the background, and several doctors try to pull Sergio off of her, but they succeed only momentarily before he takes them down and refocuses back on her. 

He was always good at hand-to-hand combat. She knows this. She trained with him.

As her vision blackens at the edges, the last thing she sees is Peter swinging a tray at Sergio’s head. Her last thought is, don’t hurt him.

—————

The smell of antiseptic is not new to Anana, so she should be able to tell that she is in a hospital room immediately upon waking. But the pain in her neck and throat disorientates her, and she jerks awake, thrashing about for a moment before Alan appears.

“Easy now,” he says in his talking-to-an-unstable-patient voice that she has heard too many times. “And don’t pick at that, you need it,” he adds when her hands go to the brace around her neck.

Reluctantly, she leaves it alone, even though it prevents her from speaking. Her eyes must convey her question, though, because Alan says, “Sergio’s alive. He’s sedated right now.”

Anana can’t bring herself to care about anything else.

Later, Peter, Alan, and Doreen are gathered in her room along with Miksa and Toluk, who are holding her hands.

“It’s a method of using tracker jacker venom to alter memories. It’s fear conditioning,” Alan explains. 

“We call it hijacking,” Peter says, looking almost proud of himself. Anana imagines smashing his head in with a tray.

“So is Sergio ever going to get better?” Toluk asks.

“Well, we’re working on some things,” says Peter. “We’re hopeful.” There’s a gleam of something in his eye that looks a lot like excitement.  

Anana stares at the white cotton sheets until they all leave. 

Before he goes, Alan holds out a syringe full of sedative, and she offers her arm without protest. 

She barely feels the prick of the needle. Before she falls asleep, she dimly thinks she can smell roses.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr [here](http://deprofundisclamoadte.tumblr.com/).


End file.
